


Lenses

by ratherbehere



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bottom Jensen, Coffee Shops, M/M, Photography, Professor Misha, Top Misha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1410841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratherbehere/pseuds/ratherbehere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Misha meets Jensen in a coffee shop, he's instantly pulled to the hopeful actor. But with Jensen denying himself and Misha's insecurities, can they find a way past their fears to be together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lenses

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize in advance for any abuse of photography and the LA/Berkeley areas. Possibly the audition process as well.
> 
> Written for Cockles Week.

~

“A great photograph is one that fully expresses what one feels, in the deepest sense, about what is being photographed.” 

Ansel Adams

~

**Misha**

The first day Misha laid eyes on Jensen, he knew there was more to him than met the eye.

He was made of clean, well-tailored lines, appeared as someone who kept himself in check and held his weight as was proper. But the way the man moved behind the counter, the way his eyes sparkled, he just _knew_ there was more underneath.

This man was made of layers.

And somehow, Misha knew he was made to peel them back.

“What can I get you?” the man said with a smile. He was absolutely gorgeous to boot, so stunningly beautiful, Misha had to check himself before he could speak. Swallow gently, lick his lips. Small gestures, sure, but significant none-the-less.

“Latte,” he said, his voice coming out about ten octaves deeper than normal. It was official, he was going to need a name to go with the face that had rendered him Darth Vader. “And a name,” he added.

Green Eyes blinked twice. “Oh, sorry. Name tag won’t stay on these thin aprons. It’s Jensen.”

“Jensen,” Misha repeated, rolling the name around. Jensen shuffled on his feet.

“Um, yeah. It’s uh, a really common last name… elsewhere,” Jensen said. He was blushing furiously. “I’m just going to get you that latte now…”

“Misha,” Misha volunteered before he could bolt. “It’s also more common ‘elsewhere.’ Maybe the same elsewhere?” He added a wink for good measure.

Jensen blushed harder, ducking his head. “Latte…” he mumbled, moving around the work area to prepare Misha’s drink.

Well. That might be that then. And Misha would probably have backed off it wasn’t for the blush. If he was good at reading people, and he was, in this case the blush meant interest, with hesitancy. Gay, but not out, maybe? Well, that was okay, that just meant not out _yet_. And if he was wrong, then he didn’t care, he still felt pulled to this man he’d just met, even if just platonically. He didn’t have to proposition.

Jensen turned his back to him to reach for a new thing of milk on the shelf behind him and Misha amended, definitely propositioning.

“So where might that somewhere be?” Jensen asked, turning around to hand him his drink. “India? Russia?”

“Oh, India-Russia, obviously,” Misha replied.

Jensen’s snort turned into a full blown laugh, and even the way the man cackled was beautiful.

“And what language do they speak in India-Russia?”

Misha grinned, prepared the best bad Russian-mixed-with-Hindi accent that he could, when a little old lady, no more than five feet tall, chimed in, “For goodness sakes, I just want my tea. Could you flirt later?”

“My apologies,” Misha said quickly. He picked up the latte, placed a five dollar bill on the counter, winked one more time at Jensen, and headed for a seat by the window.

Usually, he picked a seat by the window so he could “people watch.” Being both a psychology professor and an amateur photographer, he found that watching strangers pass on the streets gave him insight to the first, and possible inspiration for the second. Today though, he accomplished both by staring almost exclusively at the man behind the counter. The man with gorgeous green eyes, the man who glanced at him every so often before blushing through his freckles and looking away.

Still, he had a lot to do, so when his latte was half gone, he pulled out the latest study on psychosis in individuals who believed they’d experienced the divine. He’d managed to read at least one full paragraph when the object of his distraction slid into the seat across from him.

“I think I may have given you the wrong impression,” he said.

Misha set his paper down. “Oh?”

“I’m not. Um.”

“Gay?”

“Yeah,” Jensen said, biting his lip and looking to the side.

Misha tilted his head as he considered a response. “What are you doing after your shift? I know this great bar down on Elm that we could hit up. I’ll buy you a round and you can tell me why I’ve never seen you in Bean King before.”

Jensen looked a little startled. “I just said…”

“Not gay,” Misha finished for him with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, I know. Doesn’t mean we can’t be friends does it?”

Jensen smiled. “Nope.” His shoulders dropped in relief. “I’m off at four thirty.”

“I’ve got class until five,” Misha replied. “Swing by when you’re off and we’ll go from there. Drier Hall, room 105.”

Time and date set, Misha left the Bean King with excitement coursing through his veins. It didn’t matter if Jensen wasn’t interested in sex. He had doubts that was the truth, but it still didn’t matter. He could feel a strange, deep pull to the man, and he did not intend to let such a connection slip past.

**Jensen**

Jensen paced outside the door to Misha’s classroom, listening to his rumbling voice through the aged oak. He hadn’t known Misha was the professor of the class he’d asked Jensen to meet him at, but once he’d arrived and peeked in the door, in retrospect, he should have known. He had been wearing glasses and a sweater vest when he walked into the Bean King, of course he was a sexy professor.

Misha had certainly caught him off guard when he’d come into the coffee shop that morning. He was funny, witty, and unbelievably sexy. The thought had sent waves of pleasure _and panic_ up his spine, which he tried desperately to hide. He’d not been completely lying when he told Misha he wasn’t gay, but it wasn’t the full truth either.

That fact was, finding a man attractive was not completely foreign territory to him. It was not, however, something he’d ever intended to act on. He liked girls, he liked girls a lot, and where he was from, a boy liking boys meant trouble. Accepting the occasional attraction had been hard enough.

Every rational argument said he should have let things be with Misha. He was something new and wild and dangerous, and there was no need to get into something like that. He had a career hopes to focus on, and he certainly didn’t need someone pulling at his convictions.

But the more he looked over during that afternoon shift and caught Misha staring at him, the more he couldn’t just let it drop. Rational thoughts be damned, instinct said, “Go, figure this guy out.”

He leaned against the door and listened. They were discussing the psychological impacts of charity, and someone was trying to argue with Misha that charity was purely selfless. Misha was telling him that we do it, in part, to feel better about ourselves, too.

A psychology class. For some reason, Jensen found this amusing. He may not know Misha well yet, but something told him that someone like Misha should not be teaching others about sanity. But, as Jensen listened, he could tell Misha knew his stuff, and he knew how to teach it.

Not that he was a great judge of these things, having skipped out of college after his first year to get into acting. If he’d known the classes could be like this, he might have reconsidered.

Misha dismissed his class, and Jensen backed off to a corner to let the class file out. Misha came out on the heels of his last student and stopped when he saw Jensen. His eyes scanned Jensen up and down before he nodded to himself.

“Please tell me you’re at least 21.”

That gave Jensen pause. “Why?”

“Because I get in trouble when I give minors alcohol,” Misha explained with a lopsided grin. “And we’re going to have a few drinks, and you’re going to explain just who you are and where the hell you came from,” Misha said as he started off down the hallway.

“We discussed this! India-Russia!” Jensen called to Misha’s retreating form. Misha’s laughter rang down the halls.

“Better catch up Ackles, Blue Steel leaves when I get to it.”

**Misha**

Blue Steel was the name Misha had given his Prius. It was blue, it was made of steel, and its façade was as beautifully contrived as Ben Stiller’s model face. Jensen didn’t seem too impressed though, and Misha made a mental note on his Jensen Discovery Chart of his claim that it was a “girly” car.

The bar wasn’t overly busy at that time of day, but that suited Misha just fine. Loud and noisy and packed was great when you were looking for a distraction, but he wasn’t searching for a distraction. He’d already found one. He was here to learn more about Jensen, and he wanted to be as least distracted as possible from his preferred distraction.

They took a booth, ordered some beers, and it wasn’t long before Misha had learned that Jensen was from Texas, not quite as shy once he had a beer in him, and had just moved to Los Angeles to pursue acting.

“Yeah, believe it or not, my dream job is not foaming up cappuccinos,” Jensen added, taking a swig of his beer. “What about you, Mr. Mysterious Professor.”

“Giving me nicknames already, Ackles?” Misha asked with a grin. Jensen had learned Misha’s full name while listening in to his class and teased him about it in the car ride. Misha demanded fair was fair, and, after getting it out of Jensen, quickly took a fondness to using Jensen’s last name.

Jensen shrugged. “Seems to me you’ve already given me one.”

Misha huffed. “What? ‘Ackles?’” he asked. “That doesn’t count, _Jen_.”

The use of an actual, fairly familiar nickname did not go past Jensen. To his credit, he _barely_ hesitated before retorting, “Stop dodging _Mish_ , I told you my deal, it’s your turn.”

Misha could hardly deny him that logic, so he explained how he’d gotten his PhD in psychology, because he was good at reading people. When it turned out he wasn’t so good at being tactful in the patient room, he switched into teaching. He didn’t mention the photography hobby that had stalled out. Teaching was what mattered now.

“Besides,” Misha added, “I sort of like having this mini-hoard of people that have to listen to everything I say and do what I tell them.”

“Oh god,” Jensen bemoaned. “You’re insane.”

Misha laughed. “I just want to rule the world, and impose mandates of kindness and kale. What’s wrong with that?”

Jensen shook his head before meeting Misha’s eye. “You’re something else Mish.”

Misha quirked an eyebrow. “Something else good? Or bad?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Jensen said, taking another swig.

“Hmm,” Misha hummed. “Then we haven’t had enough beer yet.”

They ordered another round, and another, and another after that. They’d barely glanced at a clock and it was five beers and three hours later. Misha was laughing at a fishing story Jensen had just told (he couldn’t even explain why it was so funny) when Jensen started in his seat.

“Shit, when did all these people get here?” Jensen asked, looking around the room. “What time is it?”

Misha pressed a button on his phone to turn the screen on. “Just past 8,” he answered. “Why, do you need to go? I could give you a ride back.”

“You’re _drunk_.”

“And how would you know that?”

“ _I’m_ drunk.”

“Oh,” Misha said, nodding. Yes, that made sense. They’d drunk the same amount, weighed about the same, were about the same height, would fit together just perfectly in bed…

Misha shook his head. “That doesn’t answer the question. Do you need to go?”

Jensen thought about it for a second, and Misha wouldn’t have blamed him for calling it a night. They hadn’t known each other long, and no matter how good the company was, spending an entire evening together would be odd.

“Nah,” Jensen eventually responded. He leaned back in the booth with a smile, raising his beer bottle to his lips. It was simply stunning, and between the relaxed picture of an American God taking a drink and Jensen’s surprise response, Misha couldn’t help the question that came out of his mouth.

“Can I take your picture?”

Beer dribbled down Jensen’s chin and onto his green collared shirt as he choked, caught so far off guard he forgot how to swallow. “That’s um… I told you man, I’m not…”

Misha ignored the feeling that Jensen had just pulled back again and waved his hand. “Not gay, yeah we’ve established that.  I mean professionally. I’m a photographer.”

“How many beers have you had? You’re a _professor_.”

“A man can’t have multiple interests, Mister Actor slash Barista slash Baseball Player?”

Jensen inclined his head. “Touché.”

“It’s a hobby,” Misha explained. “And I’ve been looking for some new inspiration.” 

It was a beautiful, the way Jensen blushed at the compliment and Misha couldn’t bring himself to feel too bad for putting it there.

“Wow, you’re not even attempting subtle here,” Jensen observed.

“I’m drunk, what do you want?” Misha asked, twirling a nearly empty beer bottle.

Jensen didn’t respond right away. He looked at Misha with something far too assessing for Misha’s liking. That was _his_ thing, that’s how he routinely made people uncomfortable. Get too close, figure too much out. Now he knows what it feels like to be on the other end.

“No,” Jensen finally said. “No I don’t think that has anything to do with it.”

The topic changed as the conversation continued from there, and Misha knew he’d have to ask about the photography again later. Jensen was a gorgeous man, and he had a suspicion the camera lens would love him even more. It might just be enough to break his slump.

**Jensen**

Jensen made the heavy set Hispanic girl her cappuccino and handed it to her with a grin. He’d been in a good mood ever since he met Misha two days ago. They’d exchanged numbers and agreed that they should do that again sometime soon. Somehow, Jensen didn’t doubt that they would. 

To top it all off, he’d gotten an audition for a small part on a soap opera. It was certainly a great week.

He nearly dropped the cappuccino when Misha walked in the door wearing a pink and orange skirt with a frilly blouse.

The girl took the drink from his stalled hands and turned to leave. She broke out into a wide grin when she saw Misha.

“Professor Collins!” she called.

“Kaitlyn,” Misha replied warmly.

“I look forward to your lecture on gender identity and the social construct,” she said evenly. She, Jensen noted through his air of shock, was _not_ shocked to see Misha in a skirt. That likely had something to do with the mentioned lecture.

“Oh stop, you already have an A,” Misha said, “I’ll see you at two, okay?”

“Yep, see you then!” Kaitlyn said, leaving with a small wave.

Misha was shaking his head, a fond smile on his lips as he approached the counter. “She’s a sweet girl,” he told Jensen. “She needs to learn to relax.”

Jensen was still blinking past his confusion, and therefore didn’t consider how his words might be construed when he observed, “I think she has a crush on you.”

“Of course she does,” Misha said. “Most of my students do.”

“Even the boys?” Jensen asked.

“Even the straight boys,” Misha replied with a wink.

Jensen blushed, and not just because of the flirtation. He’d been trying to work on that, work on not making assumptions that make him sounds like an ignorant Texan hick. LA was a completely different beast to what he was used to, and if he wanted to make it here, he was going to have to open up a bit.

“So, I’ll take a large latte, and your participation in a little event I’m doing on Saturday,” Misha said when Jensen didn’t respond.

Jensen moved to prepare his drink, grabbing the milk as he said, “If it involves you, me, and a camera, I’ll pass.”

He didn’t miss Misha’s pout, adorable on Misha’s manipulative face.

“You were made for the lens, Jen,” he said. “But no, that’s not it. I’ll be running amok downtown.”

“That doesn’t sound any less insane.”

“Good,” Misha replied, pleased with himself. “It stands for Annual Melee of Kindness. Every semester, me and some of my students head down into the heart of LA to give the homeless food and whatever supplies they need. Toothbrushes, deodorant, that type of thing.”

“I imagine they do it for extra credit?” Jensen asked, pushing a button on the too-freaking-fancy machine.

When Misha didn’t respond, Jensen looked up. It was apparently what Misha was waiting for, and he broke out into a wide grin. “Ruling the world with kindness, remember Jen? Hoards of minion students-“

“All a little in love with you,” Jensen finished. “I don’t know man, sounds more like a cult. You can’t be _that_ loveable.” When Misha swallowed and shifted his weight, Jensen realized his teasing had struck a nerve. “It’s fine, I can be there,” Jensen quickly said, trying to deflect, then added, “but you do realize I nearly count as homeless myself, right?”

Misha laughed. “I’ll buy you a sandwich afterwards.”

He left with his coffee in a swish of pink and orange fabric, and Jensen could hear him laughing down the street at Jensen’s call out, “Nice legs!”

Jensen was already looking forward to Saturday, and he wasn’t sure why. Part of it might have been how pleased Misha had seemed with Jensen’s answer. Which only made it ten times harder when, not two days later, he had to call Misha and tell him he wouldn’t make it. The soap opera audition had gone well and he had call backs on that same Saturday. Misha was happy for him and wished him luck, but Jensen could hear the disappointment.

Fortunately, it all worked out in the end, and as Jensen headed down Main with a bag of dollar store soap bars, he found himself anxious to surprise and unsettle Misha for a change.

The audition had gone so well, they decided Jensen was perfect for the part and cancelled the next few auditions, moving up the test run with one of his soon to be costars. Which also went so smoothly that by the time Jensen left, much sooner than expected, he’d gotten a small part on a huge soap. He’d have to keep the coffee gig for now, but it was a huge step in the right direction.

He turned the block corner, humming happily to himself, and had to pause. There were at least a dozen college aged kids walking around the next several blocks, chatting to the homeless and handing out supplies. And that’s what Jensen could _see_. Fortunately, Misha wasn’t far away, talking to a student.

Jensen waited until he was almost on top of Misha to say, “I didn’t miss the fun, did I?”

Misha squeaked as he jumped, a bag of sandwiches swinging on his arm. A full blown smile broke out on his face when he saw it was Jensen. The student looked between them twice before mumbling about heading a block over.

“Oh I think there’s still some fun to be had,” Misha said with a wink. “How was the audition?”

“Fantastic,” Jensen replied as he scanned the area. “I got the part. They absolutely loved me.”

“No shocker there,” Misha said. Jensen had to swallow. To be fair, it was a bit of a shocker. He knew he was pretty, but only because he’d been told so, many times. There wasn’t much else to love, he wasn’t that special.

His eyes fell on a kid across the street, sitting on the steps of an apartment complex, huddled into herself. Only, he realized quite quickly, it wasn’t a kid at all, likely in her 20’s. She simply had the trademark height issues that plagued everyone with her condition.

“Anyone help that girl over there?” he asked.

Misha turned to look, spotted who Jensen was indicating, and turned to look at Jensen with genuine surprise. “No,” Misha said, “Not that I blame my students, I’m sure it was subconscious. They went for the people that were ‘safer.’ I was going to-“

Jensen didn’t let him finish. He grabbed a sandwich from Misha’s bag and headed straight across the street, dodging a car he almost didn’t see.

The girl was wary of him, and that didn’t surprise Jensen one bit. The fact that she was out here likely meant she’d been abandoned by her family and mistreated by others. Anger swelled hot in his stomach, but he kept it tapped down, for her sake. He knelt down to be on level with her, and tried to be a friend.

Eventually, Sue (he’d learned) took the sandwich.  Sensing a modicum of trust had just developed, Jensen took another step.

“I know this hotline,” he said as Sue began to eat, clutching the sandwich tightly. “They can get you help. I’m going to call it for you.”

Sue recoiled in instant anger, and Jensen was pretty sure he knew where he miss-stepped.

“I don’t need your pity! I don’t need your help!”

Jensen held up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, you’re right. You don’t. But I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll write down the number. There’s a payphone on that corner right there. You know how to use one, right?” She nodded slowly, still unsure of Jensen. “So if you want to do something to change your situation, you call it, okay?” Jensen said, relieved she no longer looked angry. He started patting his pockets, looking for a pen. “I just need-“

“Here,” a familiar voice said as a pen and slip of paper appeared over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” Jensen said, catching Misha’s eye. His face was contemplative.

He wrote down the number and handed her three quarters from his pocket. He would have given her more if he’d had more.

They left her to eat, ambling away. Jensen had been lost in his thoughts, hoping she would call the number and wishing there was more he could do, when Misha broke the silence.

“You going to explain that? Or should I just add it to the list of your traits? Sexy _and_ mysterious.”

Jensen laughed. “God no.” His smile dropped as he thought of his nephew and all of the work he’s done, and how close his nephew could have been to being just like her. “My nephew has Down’s,” he explained softly, his shoulders hunching in defensively. Not because he was ashamed, but because it was the most personal bit of information he had yet to tell his still fairly new acquaintance. “I’ve been helping with awareness and charities and stuff.”

Misha stopped walking, Jensen belatedly realized. He stopped and turned back, uncertain what Misha was about to say or do. He didn’t want pity on his nephew’s behalf.

The unpredictable professor was staring at him like he’d never seen Jensen before. His blue gaze seemed to pierce right through every layer Jensen had ever built up. It was unnerving, but for some reason, he found he didn’t mind as much as he should. Like maybe Misha was someone he could trust.

“I’m sure you’re an amazing uncle,” Misha finally said. “He’s lucky to have you. And that girl was lucky you have him.”

Jensen could feel himself blushing. Things were getting too personal, too quickly, and he never took compliments well. He always felt undeserving.

“Your students are gone,” Jensen said, throwing up a wall before he’d consulted the door. “And you owe me dinner.”

The pensive look on Misha’s face slowly deteriorated into a playful grin. “I believe I said ‘sandwich,’ which I have about six of sitting right here. “

“Oh, ha ha. Fine, if you don’t want to be seen with me-“

Misha snorted. “Yeah, trust me, that is not a problem. C’mon, Blue Steel is down a block.”

It was their second meal together that week, but it felt like the twentieth. They drank too much again, talked about anything they felt like. Misha asked him again about taking his pictures, and though he suggested Jensen could use them for his portfolio, Jensen still declined. He’d had his pictures taken many times, done a bit of modeling in his earlier days, so he wasn’t new to the camera. But somehow, what Misha was asking was too personal.

Jensen did, however, fall asleep thinking about the crazy professor’s hands holding a camera, and the intense look of his blue eyes as he found the focus on his subject of choice.

**Misha**

Misha stirred the big pot of chili on his stove and hoped that his culinary skills were as sharp as he remembered them being. It had been a long time since he’d cooked for others, and he didn’t want his food to put anyone off. He wanted his place to be as welcoming as possible.

It wasn’t the first time Jensen would see the apartment. Jensen had been inside several times as a matter of course what with meeting up for dinner or drinks. The first time he’d come inside, he was awestruck by the photography on Misha’s walls. He’d teased about it of course, as teasing and flirting had become the norm for them, but Misha could tell he was impressed, and it had meant a lot.

Still, Misha was a bit anxious. It was the first time Jensen had ever properly hung out inside his apartment, and it was also the first time Jared would be joining them.

He’d met Jared a few days ago in the Bean King, and he’d been struck by instant jealousy. It was not a feeling that sat well with him, so he swallowed it down, and offered his hand for a shake. He discovered two things rather quickly. One- he liked Jared. He was a giant, rambunctious puppy.

Second- Jensen had met him earlier that week at an audition and had apparently mentioned Misha _a lot_ inside those few days. When Misha had invited Jared to join them on Sunday for the football game, he’d hesitated and said he really didn’t want to interrupt their date. When they’d tried to correct him, he simply raised his eyebrows and said, “Are you sure about that?”

Well, Misha certainly wasn’t sure about that. They did dinner together all the time. They met for lunch and drinks, and saw more of each other than most spouses did. Then there were the number of times he caught Jensen staring at his lips or hands. It was torture when Jensen followed up such looks by sucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

They were so close to something here, but Jensen kept pulling back. Misha knew it was going to hit a breaking point sooner or later. Eventually, they’d have to talk about it. But for the time being, Misha was pretty happy with the innocent little flirtations and jokes, and somehow they’d managed to convince Jared there was nothing more to it.

He was about to call the chili a success when there was a knock on the door. Jared greeted him with a grin and a six pack of Bud. Jensen wasn’t far behind him.

Misha noted, because he’s trained in such things, that Jared carefully took the armchair, and left the couch for him and Jensen. Jared met his eye and winked. The bastard sure seemed like an overactive puppy, but underneath was someone with sharp wit, observational skills, and intelligence.

“Man it’s weird to see you in a t-shirt,” Jensen said, collapsing into a cushion on the end towards Jared. “What happened to the teacher getup?”

Jared rolled his eyes. “Uh huh,” he said under his breath, which only Misha caught.

“Which do you like better, Jay?” Misha asked, tilting his head towards Jensen. “Or would you like to see more options? I have leather.”

Jensen choked on his beer. He did that a lot.

“Oh for fucks sakes Misha,” Jared interrupted. “Don’t give him a boner before the game has even started.”

Jensen turned evil eyes on to Jared, but he just grinned. Yes, Misha decided, he definitely liked Jared.

The game went well, and so did the rest of the evening. Misha couldn’t remember laughing that much in such a short period of time. The food was, indeed, quite good, the beer was … well it was _beer_ , and the company was made of kindred spirits. If Misha and Jensen had somehow gravitated towards the center of the couch and were now nearly touching, well, it didn’t have to mean anything.

It could just mean they were that comfortable.

Then Jensen called him a republican, Jared called Jensen a city boy, Misha called Jared short, and it was _on_.

Misha quickly regretted calling Jared short, and was forcefully reminded how inaccurate it was, as he was pinned to the ground, his arm behind his back, and an elbow popped out of place. He grunted in pain and reached for the nearest available object- Jensen’s leg. Jensen’s laughter stopped as he hit the ground, and he yelped as Misha pulled, his face scraping on the rug.

“Eurggg! Miiiisha!” Jensen screamed.

A zip of arousal went down Misha’s spine and he tucked away the memory of Jensen screaming his name for future reference.

It was all a bit of a blur from there. The next time he was consciously aware of what body parts were positioned where was when he looked down into Jensen’s face and realized he had him pinned to the ground, a hand holding each wrist flat. They were both panting hard.

Jared rolled into a standing position next to them and just started laughing.

“I see what game you’d rather be playing,” he accused.

Jensen blushed so fiercely, swallowed so hard, flexed his fists under Misha’s hands so sharply, that Misha immediately jumped off of him, feeling like some sort of sexual assailant, holding him down like that. Yet, he noted, Jensen’s eyes were dilated, and, God help him, he couldn’t prevent himself from looking, his jeans were starting to bulge.

Jared’s eyes darted between them and his goofy grin faded. “I should probably get going,” he said, reaching for his jacket. “Nice art by the way. I like the pics.”

Misha jerked himself, surprised that Jared was still there and still talking. Shocked, really, that he himself was still standing. “Oh, thanks. They’re all my work. That’s um, Berkeley and the parks nearby. Caesar Chavez Park, Angel Island.”

“You know there’s a photography exhibition for local photographers coming up in Berkeley right? You should apply,” Jared told him.

“Oh,” Misha said, blinking. “No, I don’t think so. I’m not really good enough for that.”

“Why do you doubt yourself like that,” Jensen said from the floor. He’d sat up, but looked quite content hunching over himself.

“Why do you?” Misha shot back. Jensen shuffled.

Jared cleared his throat. “Right, anyway, just something to think about.” He patted his pockets, checking for his wallet and keys. “Thanks for having me over Misha, this was great. Jay, I’ll see you at that audition for that supernatural show, right?”

Jensen nodded, and Jared was gone, the door shutting softly behind him.

Misha glanced at Jensen on the floor, then his eyes fluttered away and he palmed the back of his neck, uncertain what to say next. Was this a time to push, or a time to let Jensen be?

He was startled when a hand fell on his shoulder. “You should go for that exhibition,” Jensen said softly, standing far, far too close. Misha could make out every single freckle. “You’re talented.”

“Then let me shoot you,” Misha said equally softly, turning into Jensen’s hand, bringing them closer. He’s gotten really good at catching Jensen’s guards coming down, and he saw them sliding in as his hand slid off. “Don’t,” he begged, reaching for the hand, holding it to his shoulder. Jensen let him, eyes wide and vulnerable. “Don’t run this time. Don’t put those guards up. Let me in Jen.” He squeezed the hand.

Jensen pulled it back harshly. “No,” he said with a deep rough voice.

“Jen,” Misha started again, panicked, trying to save the situation, trying to keep his friend.

“No,” Jensen repeated. “I can’t-“ He stopped himself short. He reached for his own jacket, and the door slammed shut behind him harshly.

And that, Misha supposed, was that.

**Jensen**

Jensen was walking to work when he spotted Misha inside a competitor’s coffee shop. He stopped dead in his tracks, shocked. It confirmed Misha hadn’t just gotten over coffee. (Not that he’d ever believed that.) He was avoiding Jensen.

Jensen wasn’t surprised. He felt bad about his reaction after the football game, and he knew it must have stung. The truth was, he did know exactly what Misha had been talking about. But years of oppressive thinking took a lot of time to get over, no matter how hippy-like your new friend may be.

Said hippy was bent over a cup of coffee, his elbow on the table and head rested on a fist, staring intently at something on the table. He looked so miserable, Jensen was opening the door before his brain had caught up.

Misha didn’t look up, so Jensen slid into the seat opposite him and finally saw what he was staring at. They were pictures of a woman. A beautiful woman with dark hair. One of the shots had Misha in it, and they were both cross-dressed. He would have chuckled if the situation hadn’t been so against it.

“Who is she?” Jensen asked.

Misha jerked, surprise to see Jensen. “Jensen,” he said in greeting. It was the most formal greeting Misha had yet to give him and it stung a bit. He looked back at his pictures. “Her name is Vicki. She was my first love.”

Jensen nodded. He’d known Misha was bisexual for a while now, he’d just never known any details.

“She got me into photography,” Misha said, fingering a picture fondly. “She was with me at Berkeley when I took those pictures you saw. She left for India, doing charity work, and I haven’t seen her in years. My work has been paltry at best ever since, so I slowly stopped trying.”

He took a sip of his coffee and Jensen got the impression he wasn’t done yet.

“I think I’m ready to try again, see where it goes,” Misha said, sliding the pictures back into his wallet. “I’m sorry I pressured you.” He stood up. “I’ll have you and Jared over for the next game, okay?” Misha made for the door without waiting for a response.

Jensen needed him to stop. He needed Misha to come back. He knew what Misha was doing. He was pulling back, giving Jensen space. They usually saw each other damn near every day, but the next game was a week and a half away. No more dinners alone together, no more shared stories over a beer. No more flirtations, no more games.

He was a fucking idiot and a coward and he knew it, now more than ever. And it was time for that to stop.

“Misha wait,” he said, standing up quickly. Misha paused at the door, looking at him with a defeated expression that really did not suit him at all. “Saturday. I’ll be at your apartment Saturday at four, and I’ll bring every decent piece of clothes I own, and you can take my picture as much as you want.” He approached Misha, “And in exchange, you’re going to enter that exhibition.”

Somehow he knew he wasn’t being blown off when Misha didn’t respond. He opened the door and left without a word, but it wasn’t a no, and he’d be there no matter what. He wasn’t shutting down this time. It was all on Misha.

**Misha**

Misha paced his apartment nervously, camera in hand, lots of film on standby. It wasn’t just a figure of speech when he said Jensen was made for film. He wasn’t the best at technology and strongly preferred using film SLR’s to digital. Call him old fashioned, in this sense, he didn’t care. Film took damn beautiful pictures, and you’d have to pry his SLR from his cold, dead hands.

He checked the lighting in the room again, moved the leather couch a hair to the right, adjusted the way the blanket hung over the back of it. Normally, shooting for a professional purpose was better done in a professional setting, like a studio or a carefully selected outdoor scene. But Misha had a nice flat with quality furniture and good natural light coming in through the large windows, and he had a feeling Jensen would look even better in a comfortable, homey environment.

If he showed up, that is. The clock on the wall read 4:02 pm, and he could kick himself for acting like an anxious girlfriend.

He nearly dropped the camera when the knock came.

“Hey,” Jensen, walking in with a large bag. He was wearing a pair of denim jeans that looked well worn, but fit his shape well. His shirt was a black button down of some satiny material.

“Hey,” Misha greeted back, well aware that his response was too delayed to be natural.

“This is awkward,” Jensen said with a laugh. “I mean, I’m about to ask you what you want me to wear.”

_How about absolutely nothing?_

“Let’s start with what you have on,” Misha said, taking the bag from him and putting it just inside the door to his bedroom. “Go take a seat on the couch, get comfortable. I need to take some test shots with the lighting, now that you’re here.”

Jensen nodded and took a seat on the couch. He looked nervous, adjusting his position a couple of times.

“Hey,” Misha called as he pulled the flash umbrella a fraction away from Jensen, its light just a bit too harsh on his freckles. “Relax Jen, I promise the camera won’t steal your soul.”

Jensen barked out a burst of surprised laughter. “It’s not the camera I’m worried about,” he confessed, his look sharp.

Misha let the gaze linger as he toed a footstool out of the way.  “Alright, a few test shots. Just do what you do best. Look pretty.”

Jensen huffed but settled back into the couch none the less.

The flash went off several times, Misha taking a few pics from a mid-range. He adjusted the umbrella again and took a few more.

“Okay,” Misha said, “So far, so good, let’s get some headshots in first.”

Taking pictures of Jensen that day was the most enjoyable experience Misha had ever had with a camera. It was like a well choreographed dance, where both partners knew the steps.  Jensen would move into a new position before Misha asked for it, one that angled him perfectly in the light. He knew what would look good on camera, and if Misha asked for a correction, he complied easily. Jensen changed outfits twice, and they got pictures on the couch, in front of the window, against the wall, and on the small balcony before Jensen returned to the couch. In a few hours, Misha had a large collection of pictures, all more than worthy for a great portfolio.

“Hey Jen,” Misha said on a whim. “Take off your shoes.”

“My shoes?” Jensen asked, already toeing them off.

“Yeah, let’s get some more casual pics in before we call it a day.”

Well, that had been the theory. But as Misha took some shots of Jensen relaxing on the couch, he found himself gravitating closer. He got a shot that was angled to bring out Jensen’s torso, and then he focused on Jensen’s face, before panning down and getting a few of his hands. He slid lower, taking close ups of Jensen’s feet, unsure why they captivated him so. Jensen’s body was gorgeous, every inch of it.

Jensen was breathing hard as Misha panned back up his body, and Misha realized he wasn’t taking pictures any more. He was worshipping Jensen with a camera lens. When he got back up to Jensen’s face and took a few more profile pics, he was close enough to feel Jensen’s breath on his shoulder.  

Jensen’s arm came up slowly from the side and reached for the camera.

Misha froze in place as Jensen carefully took the camera and placed it on the floor. His hand came back up and carefully cupped Misha’s cheek.

Eyes wide and open, assessing every freckle on Jensen’s perfect face, he let Jensen slowly pull him in. Misha had to press his hand into the cushion to keep from falling over as Jensen carefully pressed their lips together.

Misha could barely move, barely breathe, afraid that one move will wreck everything.

The kiss was sweet and gentle, and when it broke a brief moment later, Jensen whispered into his lips, “I’m sorry I fought this.”

Then they were kissing again, Jensen’s hand sliding into his hair, holding him close as his tongue licked at Misha’s lips. Misha groaned, opening his own lips to let Jensen explore. It was tentative, but not inexperienced, as if Jensen new how to sail, but was in foreign waters for the first time.

Misha broke the kiss with a nip to Jensen’s bottom lip. Expecting that to be the end of this careful dance, Misha was quite surprised when his nibble elicited a hard groan from Jensen. He surged up, and before Misha knew it, he was being manhandled until he lay awkwardly on top of his latest inspiration.

Still uncertain how far Jensen was willing to go, Misha kept himself braced above as their mouths met over and over again in a frenzied mess of lips and tongue and saliva. Misha reveled in Jensen, soaking in his taste of coffee and heaven.

Eventually, Jensen let out a frustrated growl, grabbed Misha’s hips and pulled him down sharply, both of them gasping. Misha’s erection pressed hard into Jensen’s hips, and he felt Jensen’s answering length press into his.

“Shit,” Jensen called out, throwing his head back. “Damn, now I’m really sorry I resisted this.” He was moving Misha’s hips, grinding Misha down into him. “You feel incredible.”

“Mmm,” Misha agreed, trying to pull up, and Jensen whimpered in protest. “Jay, let me.”

Jensen reluctantly eased up, but became infinitely more onboard with the plan as Misha pulled up enough to unbutton Jensen’s slacks and slide his hand inside. When Misha’s fingers wrapped around his erection, he moaned and arched into the touch.

“Oh,” he said, voice surprised, as if he’d never been touched before. “Oh god.”

Misha stroked him slowly, pulling on his length just enough to turn Jensen into a panting, writhing mess.

Jensen’s hand snaked up, reaching in a blind, lust filled haze for Misha’s belt, but Misha pulled his hips back in tease.

“God damn, you fucker,” Jensen growled. “Let me in.”

The sound of Jensen’s voice thick with arousal, demanding Misha lower his hips back down so he can, literally, get into his pants, was one of the hottest things Misha had ever heard. He grinned as he eased his lips back to Jensen’s and carefully lowered his hips to where Jensen could reach the belt.

It came off with force, Jensen throwing the bit of leather across the room before diving back in for the button on Misha’s slacks. The path of his fingers was deterred momentarily when Misha slid his thumb over Jensen’s leaking slit. Jensen cursed loudly, and Misha couldn’t help but wince as the sound of thread ripping thrilled the room and the button on his slacks went to join the belt.

His wince turned into a groan as Jensen worked his hand through the fabric and gripped his cock without hesitation.

“Oh Jesus Jen,” Misha mumbled, dropping his head into Jensen shoulder. Their fists bumped as they stroked each other. It wasn’t the most graceful position, and that needed to be fixed. “Pants are evil,” Misha said, reaching for Jensen’s waist band. He quickly slid Jensen’s pants and boxers down, forced to stop around Jensen’s thighs as Jensen reached for his own pants and pushing them down about as far as Misha had gotten. He quickly resumed his earlier grip on Misha’s hips and crashed their pelvises together.

He would have given Jensen a different treat while he’d been down at eye level with his cock, but Jensen was in a rush for other plans.

Not that Misha had an issue with these plans one bit. His lips pressed into Jensen’s neck as he began to grind them together. He would have continued sucking and nibbling at Jensen’s exposed skin, but the force of their bodies grinding so hard and dirty together had rendered him incapable of doing anything other than whimpering into Jen’s ear.

They were humping like horny teenagers and had no intention of stopping.

“Mish,” Jensen said breathlessly. “Oh god, I’m so close.”

“Yeah,” Misha agreed. “Go on Jen, come for me.”

He wasn’t really expecting Jensen to come on command, but the shuddering and feel of warm liquid splashing against him and his cock told him he had. Damn that was _hot._

Jensen’s release provided some much needed lubrication and Misha’s cock began sliding alongside Jensen’s slowly softening one. “Oh fuck,” Misha cried at the new sensation.

“Come on Mish,” Jensen encouraged, his grip continuing to help Misha grind against him. “Share with the class.”

The pleasure crescendoed sharply and Misha found himself shaking as his body was racked with waves of joy, releasing with a loud, wanton cry.

He fell on Jensen, not caring just yet as their semen squished between them. Jensen’s hands slid from his hips, one onto his lower back, the other to card gently through his hair. A soft kiss was pressed to his temple, and it was so sweet, Misha almost didn’t know how to process it.

After a moment, he found himself chuckling.

“What?” Jensen asked defensively.

“’Share with the class’?” Misha asked. “Oh god, you’re going to want to sleep with me to get better grades, aren’t you?”

Jensen laughed. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t love every minute of that.”

Misha couldn’t deny that. He was pretty sure, however, he would love every minute with Jensen, regardless of what they were wearing or what they were doing.

**Jensen**

Jensen woke up with a heavy lump of a man on top of him and a nasty sensation of cooling, drying come on his stomach.

He braced himself, expecting his walls to slam up in panic at what they’d just done, but they never did. He was completely at peace, and aside from the cooling come and the heavy weight making him want to shift his hips and redistribute the pressure, he was completely comfortable.

Jensen still had a hand in Misha’s hair, so he resumed stroking it.

“Mmm?” Misha mumbled, waking up slowly. “Yeeeck, that feels nasty.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” Jensen responded lightly.

Misha chuckled into his neck, the rumble reverberating through Jensen’s chest. “It _is_ a compliment that you got me passed out without even wiping off first,” Misha said, standing up from Jensen slowly, stretching a few muscles along the way. Misha had told him once that he was flexible, and Jensen wondered just how much.

“Shower?” Misha asked, holding out a hand.

He should hesitate. He should probably make an excuse and leave, give himself some time to think things through. But Jensen didn’t need time, not anymore. He didn’t need to go home, because Misha was it.

So Jensen slid his hand into Misha’s and let him let him towards the shower, shedding their stale, crusty clothes along the way.

The water pressure in Misha’s shower was amazing, and so were the talented, slim fingers that worked their way over his skin. There was no heat behind it, just tender, loving ministrations as Misha helped clean his skin, and Jensen returned the favor. Soft kisses were pressed here and there, all without urgency.

Misha brought him back into the bedroom and guided them both, fully naked, under the sheets. He fell asleep with Misha’s strong arms wrapped around him.

He awoke to Misha’s talented mouth wrapped around his cock.

“Ahhhh,” Jensen cried out, instantly awake, snapping his hips upwards into the delicious heat. He was about to apologize when Misha growled and swallowed him down further. His legs snapped open, giving Misha more room to work.

Jensen raised his head enough to catch Misha looking up at him through dark eye lashes, caressing Jensen’s thighs with his hands. At the widened stance, Misha slid his right hand down and cupped Jensen’s balls, rolling them gently.

“Nnnng,” Jensen with a groan, dropping his head back onto the pillow.

Misha let a finger dip lower and Jensen’s legs twitched, widening further.

The velvety smooth suction stopped when Misha stopped moving, leveling Jensen with a look, eyes wide and questioning. Jensen knew what he was asking and nodded yes, a zip of arousal and anticipation going through him. He bent his knees, tilting his pelvis just upwards enough to show Misha that yes, he knew what he wanted.

Misha pulled off his cock just long enough to wet two fingers, and then slid back down.

When one of those digits brushed his hole, Jensen moaned like a two dollar whore, the feeling of his cock in Misha’s mouth combined with a finger in his ass was mind blowing.

He didn’t breach Jensen by much, and Jensen suspected that was because he was currently using saliva as lube. Misha knew Jensen had never done anything like this before and was treating him with kid gloves. His finger was just adding to the stimulation, Misha’s mouth was doing most of the work.

“Fuck,” Jensen panted. “I know you’ve got lube around here somewhere, Mish, finger me properly for Christ’s sakes.”

Misha pulled off his cock with a slurp. “My my, you’re pushy in bed.”

“Make inane observations later, sex now.”

Misha laughed as he pulled open his nightstand drawer and retrieved the lube. He popped the cap open, slathered up the fingers on his right hand, and dropped the bottled next to Jensen’s hip. He leaned over and kissed Jensen softly as the first finger circled his hole and slid easily in. Much easier than the saliva slicked one had.

Jensen gasped, the power to his brain flickering momentarily.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Misha said against his lips. “Less pushy now, huh?”

The finger worked gently inside of him as Misha scooted back down the bed and resumed swallowing Jensen’s cock like it was a tasty lollipop he couldn’t get enough of. It felt incredible, and Jensen could feel an orgasm beginning to burn through him.

It was too soon.

“Slow down,” Jensen said breathlessly. “Oh god. Slow down, I’m not ready. I want-“ he had to swallow hard, trying not to meet Misha’s eye as he waited for Jensen to finish his sentence. “Give me another finger.”

Misha’s eyes dilated sharply.

“Shit,” Misha whimpered, pulling off his cock and gently sliding another finger in and around the first. “Jen, we don’t have to go this far.”

“I know,” Jensen mumbled. “God, I know. Just. Don’t stop.” He was very aware he was nearly ripping Misha’s dark blue sheets, thrusting into Misha’s fingers like a wanton little sub, but he couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Not that he wanted to, the feeling was unbelievable.

Misha twisted his hand, angled his finger and Jensen choked on a sob as he found Jensen’s prostate. Well then, that was one part of anal sex they hadn’t lied about. The pleasure of that simple movement sent every nerve ending singing.

“Another,” he demanded, his voice full of gravel.

He could feel the third finger stretched him further, but he was riding the pleasure and adrenaline so high, there wasn’t any pain. A needy sound escaped his lips as he ground down into Misha’s digits.

“Please tell me you have condoms,” Jensen asked.

Misha’s breath hitched. “You’re fucking kidding me. Jen, just watching you like this… I don’t know if I can make it that far.”

“Man up, Collins,” Jensen bit out. “Find a condom and fuck me.”

The long, wonderful fingers in Jensen’s hole stopped moving. “Okay,” Misha finally said in a broken tone. “Just. Give me a second.”

That’s when Jensen finally noticed just how wrecked Misha was. He was flushed, his skin glistened with sweat, and his cock was swollen thick and hard, leaking precome as a sign that he wasn’t kidding about being on the edge.

After a few moments, Misha was back in the drawer and pulled a condom out. He ripped it open, pinched the tip, and rolled it over his length. He opened the lube and slicked up his cock, biting his lip with the restraint.

“It’s easier on your hands and knees,” Misha told him. Jensen shook his head.

“Like this.”

Misha took a deep breath and nudged himself closer, rubbing the head of his cock against Jensen’s loosened hole. His heart pounded hard in his chest, barely keeping it together in the anticipation.

When he breached Jensen, the world stopped moving. At least, Misha literally did.

“Oh my god,” Jensen eventually said, panting hard. “Oh my god, _Misha_.”

Misha’s voice was no less broken when he replied, “ _Jen_.”

“Move Mish,” Jensen said, “move before I die.”

“Yeah.”

The slide was slow and torturous. Jensen’s grip left the sheets, opting instead for Misha arms, feeling the biceps flex as Misha held his weight up, pushing in with small, soothing thrusts. When he finally bottomed out, there was a pause before Misha groaned and fell forward, locking his lips with Jensen’s.

Jensen wrapped his arms around Misha and held him close, enjoying his warmth. Misha had limited movement, but he didn’t seem to mind, setting a slow, controlled pace, sliding his cock out of Jensen’s body, and ever so gently back in.

Jensen had never felt so close to anyone in his entire life as he did at that moment. Misha fucking into him gently, their bodies pressed together inch for inch. He slid his ankles over Misha’s thigh, letting him deepen the angle, bringing them even closer.

It wasn’t long before Misha’s thrusts grew erratic, not that Jensen expected differently, given the state he’d been in when they started. Misha pulled back gently, much to Jensen’s protest.

“Getting close babe,” Misha said, apparently becoming a sap in bed. “Want you there with me.”

With Jensen’s cock firmly in hand, Misha’s pace became deep and fully penetrating, and Jensen was feeling it in two places now. His vision was starting to get fuzzy and the tingling in his spine was intensifying.

Misha beat him to it, crying out loudly as his hips stuttered and buried him as far as they could.

Jensen whimpered, the hand on his cock had stopped moving and he was reaching to finish himself off when Misha snapped out of it, and proved to Jensen that it hadn’t been just bluster when he said he was flexible. Without pulling out, he bent himself over and popped Jensen’s cock back in his mouth.

He sucked the orgasm out of Jensen, and it was only when his vision returned a few minutes later that he realized he had screamed _and_ ripped the sheets.

Misha pulled out gently, discarded the condom. He collapsed next to Jensen, slinging an arm over his middle.

When Jensen’s brain seemed to be fully functioning again, he turned to Misha, kissed his nose and asked, “When can we do that again?”

“As soon as humanly possible, I hope,” Misha replied.

**Misha**

Misha tossed back the beer he’d ordered so fast it made him nauseous. Or maybe it was the nerves making him feel sick? He signaled the waiter for another one.

Jensen had caught him on his way into class to tell him they need to meet for dinner when he got off his shift at the Bean King at 8:00. He said he had something to tell Misha, and he’d seemed rather anxious about it.

They’d been together for little over a week. It had been an amazing week, full of kisses and hot sex and tender caresses. Misha’d been waiting for something to come along and ruin it. In particular, that Jensen would sooner or later throw his walls up again and freak out about what they were doing.

The sad part was that he wouldn’t even blame Jensen for it. He was trying to make it in Hollywood. While most people in business were coming out in support of gay rights, Jensen was no doubt concerned how their relationship might effect his chances of getting a better part. Especially if the fanbase he does have, thanks to that soap opera, finds out about them and freaks out.

It would kill him to let Jensen go, but he never truly expected it would last. Good things never happened to him for long, though he’d certainly hoped this time was different. His feelings for Jensen went far beyond a fling. He’d felt like their souls were meant to be together the moment he’d met Jensen, and that had never changed. But if Jensen needed him to let go…

Misha tossed back half of the second beer in one go.

“Hey,” Jensen said, sliding in across from him. He raised an eyebrow at the empty beer mug, and the second one on its way. “Did you get here early?”

“Just preparing myself,” Misha said. “I have a feeling you’re about to tell me something I don’t want to hear.”

Jensen swallowed, spread his hands on the table. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I mean, it’s good. For me. I just don’t know how you’re going to take this.”

Misha’s eyes fluttered and he finished the second beer. He motioned for Jensen to continue.

“You remember when Jared and I auditioned for that Supernatural show?” Jensen asked. Misha nodded, now a little more confused. “Well. We got the parts. We’ll be playing brothers.”

“That’s fantastic, Jay,” Misha said, wishing he could sound happier. He knew the other shoe was about to drop. Jensen didn’t even sound appropriately thrilled.

“We film in Vancouver.”

And there it was. Misha’s gut hit the floor. He suddenly wished he hadn’t drunk two beers.

“Hey,” Jensen said, trying to catch his eye. “It’s not a deal breaker man, I’m not walking away from you. We can do the long distance thing when I have to be in Vancouver.” Misha felt himself nodding in agreement, even though he felt rather hollow all of a sudden. “But I want you to consider something.”

“What’s that?” Misha asked, only half listening. His ears were ringing. He was taking this even worse than expected. Jensen was right, this didn’t have to end everything. Sure, couples that had been together for years and were solid with no underlying issues couldn’t survive a long distance relationship, but maybe they could.

He just didn’t know if he could handle seeing Jensen a couple weeks here and there.

“Move to Vancouver with me.”

Misha blinked in surprise. “What? Jay, I’m a Professor here, I can’t just quit-“

“I know,” Jensen agreed. “I’m being a selfish jerk. Your students love you, and you’re good at what you do, and I’m asking you to leave them because I can’t stand the thought of being away from you for more than a day.”

“You’re right, you are being a selfish jerk. I have my career here, Jensen. My life is here.”

“Your life can be with me,” Jensen said sitting forward. “And your career isn’t your passion. You’re the best photographer I’ve ever worked with. God, Misha, it’s still a complete mystery to me why such a free spirit as yourself would rather work for a bureaucratic institution when you have such a talent with a camera.”

“Because I’m not as skilled as you think I am,” Misha said sharply.

“Maybe,” Jensen fired back. “But you’re definitely more of a coward than I thought you were.”

Misha clenched his fists, took a breath and unclenched them. Then he calmly stood up and left. He was a few blocks away before he realized he’d made Jensen pay the tab on his beers.

**Jensen**

Jared was trying to make him laugh. Jensen knew that. But as they sat in the front corner of the Bean King, Jensen trying to keep up with Jared’s jokes, his thoughts kept coming back to Misha. He’d instantly felt bad for calling Misha a coward a few nights ago, but he had issues with apologizing when he knew he was kind of right.

After all, he knew what cowardly looked like. He’d been the coward for weeks, and it still pained him to think about the time he wasted, caught up in his issues. But he got over that, and now it was Misha’s turn. It was time for him to come to grips with whatever issues he had wrapped up in photography. Jensen wasn’t the psychologist, but he knew it had something to do with Vicki and how she had gotten him into it, and how she left.

Misha was a good psychologist and a great teacher, but Jensen knew where Misha’s heart lay. He was _meant_ to be a photographer. If only he could see that in himself, if only he could see how great he was.

Preferably soon.

Jensen did the mental math again. Nine days. He had nine days before he left and Misha wasn’t even talking to him.

“Dude,” Jared said, prodding him out of his reverie with a nudge of his foot.

Jensen looked up just in time to see Misha lay a packet on the table in front of him.

“The hell?” Jensen asked.

“Just look,” Misha replied.

He slid open the packet and was greeted with two dozen pictures of his own face. And a few of his feet.

“I’ll repeat,” Jensen said. “The hell?”

“That,” Misha said with a grin, “Minus a few of the more personal pics, just won me the spotlight at the Berkeley Art Center Bay Area Photography Exhibition.”

Jensen blinked several times, but his brain was struggling to keep up.

“You were right,” Misha said, sliding into the free chair at the table. “I was a coward. I was hung up on old issues and they were blurring the lens, so to speak. I needed to refocus. So I went home that night, found all of the film we’d shot, took it in first thing the morning for developing, before driving straight out to Berkeley and talking with the Art Director, Genevieve Cortese.”

Misha paused, reached for Jared’s coffee, took a big gulp and set the cup back down before continuing.

“She loved the pictures of you so much, she offered me the premier spot in the show then and there,” Misha explained with a grin. “She also wanted your number, so I gave her Jared’s.”

“Hey!” Jared cried out.

Misha waved a hand. “She was hot, you’ll thank me.” He took another gulp of Jared’s coffee, and Jared pulled it away, smacking his hand. “So you were right, Jen, I was a coward. But I found my courage. I told the university this morning that I wouldn’t renew my contract with them at the end of the school year.”

Jensen blinked a few more times and desperately wished words into his mouth that would not come.

“Jen! I’m coming to Vancouver with you!”

A happy laugh began bubbling out of Jensen as the reality sunk in. Screwing all sense of decorum in the ass, Jensen was thoroughly kissing the good news off of Misha’s lips in the blink of an eye. Besides, it was a coffee shop in LA, two men kissing was hardly news worthy.

Dimly, he heard Jared mutter, “Well you’re coming to Vancouver with me too, but I think I’ll pass on the current mode of celebration.”

Misha, however, heard him fine, and laughed like it was the best thing he’d ever heard.

The nutty professor, the giant moose, and the ex-coffee king, taking Vancouver by storm.

It was the best thing he’d ever heard too.

**Author's Note:**

> I almost forgot to thank my beautiful, constant friend for betaing for me, as always. [Alene](http://destielengineering.tumblr.com), you are fantastic and I don't know where I or my fics would be without you.


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